[color=#1A1A3B][b][u][h1][sub][sub][sub]Farren[/sub][/sub][/sub][/h1][/u][/b][/color]                  was prepared for many things, extreme violence among them, perhaps a vicious verbal rebuke. Silent, unforgiving judgement too was something he had prepared for, but in his pessimism–if that’s what it was–he had not prepared for what truly transpired. As she reached out, Farren didn’t react at all, barely even twitched…until her slender arms wrapped about his neck and she pressed close as she embraced him.

He tensed, then tensed further still, his entire body practically going rigid as if every muscle had locked up and unconsciously he dropped the bag he’d been holding in one hand. His mind screamed danger—or…no that wasn’t quite it. Farren frowned, numerous thoughts raging through his mind in the space of an instant. He noticed that shrinking voice in his mind, the one built from old impulses and a largely forgotten identity…it was angry, screaming, terrified. Lashing out. Had he really been so lonely and guarded in his old life that he’d not been close with someone like this? Not shared a casual embrace. Farren swallowed, his throat feeling thick even as he took in a breath, inhaling the strange and distinct scent of a hunter that Gerlinde put off…which was tinged with notes of cinnamon. After another moment, he started to relax, not fully but at least he wasn’t a practically a statue anymore. At the same time his arms came up and he—though awkwardly—managed to return her embrace, if tentatively. Though she’d been remade—first by the old blood, and then in some other way given her changed appearance—his embrace was far more gentle and unsure, as if he almost didn’t know how to hug someone, or as if she was so fragile he might accidentally break her.

An emotion welled in his chest even as she spoke…relief, then gratitude. She shifted, looking up at them with those distinct eyes, the same eyes he remembered from what felt like ages ago.

[color=#1A1A3B][b]“I—…”[/b][/color] he started, but didn’t know what to even say. After a moment he found some words to string together, [color=#1A1A3B][b]“You’re not angry?”[/b][/color] He asked, gently extricating himself from her, his larger hands on her shoulders as he held her slightly at arms length, his piercing eyes locked with her gaze.

"I was angry, once," Gerlinde quietly confessed, her voice now tinged with sadness. "For so long I hated you, and I hated everyone at Byrgenwerth. I cried myself to sleep wishing that all kinds of terrible things happened to you. But in time I realized that everything that happened to me... all the horrible things they did to me... they had to have a good reason. [I]You[/I] had to have a good reason. And [I]I[/I] didn't really matter. My life and wellbeing didn't matter in the face of what they were learning. It was for the greater good. So I... learned to just be happy to be a part of that."

As she spoke, Farren nodded, listening intently, seeking to understand. However, the more he heard the more his gut twisted with anger and disgust, both himself for the circumstances his actions had put her in and towards the larger system that did such things to innocent people. His brow furrowed and his jaw clenched, the muscles at the joint visibly working as he looked at her. She was almost his height, but in her vulnerable state she seemed small somehow, like she was still that girl on the inside, even though she’d done her utmost to change externally and project another image.

[color=#1A1A3B][b]“You’re a survivor,”[/b][/color] he said frankly, his tone grave and serious, but without the almost universal roughness that it typically held. [color=#1A1A3B][b]“…I admire that and I don’t know what you’ve endured because of my choices and the predilections of others, but you didn’t deserve it.”[/b][/color]

"No, don't you see?" she interjected, sounding almost happy. "It doesn't matter what I deserved. I didn't matter! [I]No one matters![/I] Everyone just does whatever they need to. Whatever they want."

Farren’s heart missed a beat, he didn’t pull in air for a moment, but slowly did so again rather than suddenly gasping. His jaw worked for a moment, but rather than tensing further he forced himself to relax and give her a faint smile. But his eyes were almost sad for a moment before he took another breath and they crinkled slightly at the edges, matching his expression. [color=#1A1A3B][b]“There’s some truth to that,”[/b][/color] Farren offered, his voice even gentler than before, [color=#1A1A3B][b]“After all, we only matter as much as we decide we ought to,”[/b][/color] he added.

Her words had made Farren realize that she was deep in some kind of madness, he thought, probably to try to protect herself from the pain of how things really were. Part of him wanted to try harder to tear it away, to rip off the gauze, to correct the splint so she could heal, but he wasn’t some kind of mind doctor and despite her gesture they weren’t truly close. For now at least. Besides, Yharnam was not a kind place, so perhaps a little madness would serve her well. Nonetheless, he met her eyes again, [color=#1A1A3B][b]“Later, if it’s something you can bear…I’d like to hear what you’ve been through, but not now.”[/b][/color] He gave her shoulders a squeeze and in so doing felt the strength about her as much as he felt the softness and saw the fragility. Farren raised his eyes and caught a glimpse of Ophelia as she got a bit closer. [color=#1A1A3B][b]“By your look, it seems we’ve other business to attend.”[/b][/color]

He let go of Gerlinde’s shoulders, though some part of him wanted to give her another squeeze, one of further reassurance perhaps. Farren found that he felt rather protective of the girl, but wasn’t sure what the nature of the feeling was exactly. He pushed it aside for some other time. At the same time, he nodded in agreement with Ophelia’s words before she fully launched into a lengthy explanation of what all they’d discussed in his absence. It took some time, but when she finished he had a lot to think about…or rather a lot to shove into the back of his mind and slowly process as it became convenient.

[color=#1A1A3B][b]“Well, that’s…a lot to take in,”[/b][/color] he’d reply in an almost grumbled tone, before he shook his head a bit as she bulled on. Apparently, they would be heading to the White Church Workshop next….

Farren chewed lightly at the inside of his cheek—though not hard enough to break or bruise the skin—as he considered what she was saying about the Vicar. He had no memory of the man…and would have rather avoided him, but she was right. Information was essential, and they simply didn’t know nearly enough about the nature of most of their transformations—Ophelia excepted. By the end of her explanation regarding Harold, Farren found himself almost scowling, the idea of anyone or anything else setting him on edge. He shook himself a bit before nodding, [color=#1A1A3B][b]“I’ll take the rune, rather not have anyone else rattling around my head,”[/b][/color] he said simply. He’d have to explain the small discovery he’d made about the Moonbourn Hunter’s weapons later. Probably wasn’t that important to the others anyways, at least not in the immediate moment.